Facebook Rantings

This post will probably get me "unfriended" by one or two hundred folks.  That's okay.  I have been unfriended before, and this probably won't be my last time.  It's just another indication that Facebook outgrew "friending" a few million folks ago.  Maybe friending should be renamed "connecting" or "aligning" or some other term that is more suitable to birds who only seek out those of like feathers.  I allowed myself five minutes to vent and came up with this my top ten list of pet peeves -- at least for today:


1.    I REFUSE to LIKE Walmart.  My heart falls and my gut twists into a knot everytime my mom, The Boss, sends me there. Walmart is a vicious, despicable conglomeration of predators.  It preys on and victimizes its suppliers, its employees and its customers.  It gouges its suppliers.  It mistreats its employees.  And it passes off poorly manufactured goods to its customers, like laptop computers with barely enough memory to run operating systems.


2.     I  have NO idea who or what Kim Kardashian is or even if she has any socially redeeming value, which I doubt, based on the circumstances under which I hear her name in popular media (that is, if media has any veracity, which, again, is doubtful), nor do I care to know.


3.     Jesus, the Christ is my Lord and Savior, of Whom I am not ashamed.  Still, I doubt that in the flesh he was the handsome dark-haired, blue-eyed hunk as he has been portrayed.  He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him, nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.  (Isaiah 53:2).  


4.     I pray daily, throughout the day, and am uttering one now, asking God the Father to still the hands of folks who think it their mission to shove their beliefs, regardless of the issue, down my throat, by telling me what to LIKE and what to SHARE, and the contingent circumstances upon which I am to do so.


5.     Despite my beliefs and my opinions, they will be mine even if they are not yours.  I may or may not agree with you, but I respect your right to think/believe as you deem appropriate, even if contrary to what I think/believe.  Please allow me the same consideration.  Of course, if you don't that's okay, too.  You will be ignored.  And you will probably unfriend me.  Cool.


6.     I do not believe that SHARING or FORWARDING or LIKING anything in particular, for any specific number of times with a specific number of people, will put me in better stead with the Almighty God.  It rains on the just and the unjust, and we are all some of both.  


7.     God is not a genie.  You don't get three wishes; you get to live your life based on the choices you made, as do I.  Sometimes He will show you an extra measure of unmerited favor -- perhaps you call it grace, or sometimes you will forego the consequences of your actions -- perhaps you call that mercy; that doesn't make you any more highly favored as the next person; we all get that, to some degree, from time to time.


8.     I do not care to see intimate moments of anyone on my Facebook page, whether male/female, male/male, or female/female, or, God forbid, male/other or female/other, where other is something in lieu of homo sapien.


9.     I do not care to see pictures of barely dressed people.  I don't know which is worse, a picture posted to laugh at or ridicule, or a picture posted to tantalize.  Neither are appealing.  Both are offensive.   This being said, I am not a prude; there is simply a time and place for everything.


10.     My "church" clothes are always ready.  I get up on Sunday morning, do the necessary daily grooming, go to my closet and pull out something neatly pressed and clean, generally a dress shirt or twin set and a pair of trousers, occasionally a suit, and appropriate accessories.  I still have to watch those dirty stains that appear on my heart, however.


Looking forward to "friending" new folks as my current roll declines, and

Finally, brethren, Be perfect, be of good comfort,

be of one mind, live in peace;

and the God of love and peace shall be with you.

 II Corinthians 13:11 (KJV)

What to Do After a Wreck

I. PREFACE


A. Do You Know What it Is like to Wear Many Hats?   


For most, our lives are an entanglement of titles, roles, labels, tasks, obligations and responsibilities, each of which command some modicum of our time and attention.  For most who work, there is but one job; sometimes two; rarer, but still a reality, sometimes more.  This writer does not have a job per se.  She works in the confines of her office, the first floor of her town  home, doing any number of things:  sometimes editing, researching or writing for lawyers; sometimes preparing to make presentations about Medicare and other senior issues; sometimes helping contentious folks wade through and resolve their conflicts; sometimes restoring a damaged computer, the victim of a virus; sometimes teaching a class to process servers (or wannabes); sometimes helping folks insure their property.  The list could go on, but probably should have been stopped a sometime or two ago.  The point is this:  Andrea wears LOTS of hats.   Keep this in mind as she continues.


B. Which Hat to Wear?


In the process of getting dressed, do you sometimes contemplate which hat is the right hat?  If rain is forecast, perhaps something water proof would be the way to go; or if it’s cold, a nice wool felt would be better.   And if you’re playing tennis, a cap or visor.  Would a woman wear a baseball cap for worship, or one of those meaningless froo-froo things I saw last week at a sorority tea be a better choice?   In other words, wear the hat that suits the purpose, conditions and occasion.  Remember this also.  


C. Writing Can Be Wonderfully Rewarding and Wonderfully Wearying – Simultaneously


This writer will never be an Ayn Rand or an Alex Hailey, or a Robert Ludlum.  Still, this writer finds it therapeutic to record her thoughts, draining though the activity is.  Writing is a little like labor.  Every complete thought that is developed is a contraction.  The closer the contractions come together, the more intense the labor, and, the closer to the reward, a baby, a new life, a completed work.  Whether writing for a lawyer, a preacher, a teacher, or this little blog, writing is labor.  Yep – keep this in mind.


D. So, What if You Don the Wrong Hat?


Well, if it’s raining and one is sporting a nice wool fedora, things will probably not be as one would want.  Similarly, if writing, say, a motion for summary judgment for a breach of contract lawsuit, one would not go tipping around research for a trial in probate court.  Not on point.  So, what if the subject is – well, sensational, controversial, offensive, egregious, shameful, disgraceful to a family of faith, and – well — you get the picture.  And the answer is:  well, it depends.  


E. One More Thing 


A little more than a quarter century ago (yesterday for me, ancient history for some), a young woman had a business alliance with a man of the cloth.  They marketed their services and products to churches.  One day, the man suggested to the woman that they engage in certain acts, to which the woman replied, You know we can’t do anything like that; we’re not married, to which the man responded, It’s okay; we’re under grace.  The woman stood her ground.  Nothing happened.  Some time later, the woman suffered food poisoning after visiting the wrong Chinese buffet.  Bedridden, it was all she could do to make her way to the porcelain god, to which she gave up offerings frequently.  Her best friend was with her.  When that man came, saying that he would sit with the woman for a while, the best friend left to do errands.  When they were alone, the man proceeded to do to the woman what she previously refused.  She was so weak, she could not protect herself or stop him.  When finished, the man said You act like you didn’t like it.


The woman never told anyone.  She assumed no one would believe her accusations against this well-known and highly regarded man of the cloth.


By now you’re asking What does that have to do with anything?  Well, bear with me; this is not easy; it is labor.


II. INTRODUCTION


After viewing an excerpt from a video, apparently a sermon by a nationally known (if not internationally known, but what’s a few hundred million more people, or a billion or two?) pastor, I confess my knee-jerk reaction was to delve into the mess.  I knew nothing of the details of the underlying sordid mess, the accusations of four (I believe that is the number) young men against another widely known pastor.  In fact, when the news first surfaced months ago, I refused to devote any brain cells to the story.  I ignored broadcast news, internet news, Facebook comments and Twitter Tweets.  And I refused to discuss it, even after one person made several attempts, all unsuccessful, to draw me into dialogue.  Nope.  Not me.  I’m not going there.  And suddenly, here I am on a lazy Saturday afternoon, recovering from a wonderful morning, first with my mom, The Boss, then with former church members (at a visitation for one who has graduated to a better life), then a group of my Fabulous Family of God at South Main Baptist, then with my Sweet Pea, and I view this video – a lame attempt to analogize the alleged abuse of youths at the hands of a spiritual and community leader as a wreck – and I am now hot to trot.


Off I go, donning my paralegal hat, pumped as if preparing for a trial.  Newspapers.  Yahoo.  Binging.   Googling.  Trying to get the gist of what happened (as if I could via the Internet) – and then the light came on:


Me: Wait a minute!  What are you doing?  What  - do - you - THINK - you - are - doing? 


Me: I dunno.  


Me. Well, if you DUNNO, just stop it!  Take that silly hat off!


Me: Oh, I have on the WRONG hat???  Sorry  :(


Me: Well, you should be.   Just stop, dang-it!


III. THE RIGHT HAT


For this, there is no right hat.  However, there is a right posture  – that of  standing naked before God.  He knows each of us in more detail than any of us want to be known.  Before you stop reading because I’m not jumping on the bandwagon to hang the other pastor in effigy (alongside the one who perpetrated the mess in the first place), stay with me a little while longer.  I must first remind myself that I am not the one to cast judgment.  Frankly, I’m too busy trying to keep my own closet door shut.  Just because the title of my blog is “Coming Out of the Closet – Keeping it Real,” does not mean I intend to leave the closet door open.  


IV. IT’S NOT JUST ABOUT THE WRECK


This is not to judge either of these fellas – the one who, according to the other, had a wreck – or the other, with all of his education and eloquence, could not do anything better than chide folks:  I can't believe that people would leave their preacher because he had a wreck.  It is a problem that EL had a wreck.  The even bigger problem is what happened after the wreck.  


A.   David Had a Wreck


You remember that Bible story – how David took Bathsheba, the wife of his faithful soldier, Uriah?  How David had Uriah positioned in battled to assure he would be killed?  How Nathan had to tell David about his hit-and-run?  Yes.  David had a wreck.  And when Nathan confronted David about his wreck, what did he do?   Did he put on his royal robes and crown and sit on his throne?  No.  He prostrated himself before God and confessed:


Psalm 51:1-13 (KJV)-------------------------------


Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.


Wash me throughly from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin.


For I acknowledge my transgressions: and my sin is ever before me.


Against thee, thee only, have I sinned, and done this evil in thy sight: that thou mightest be justified when thou speakest, and be clear when thou judgest.


Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.


Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom.


Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean: wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow.


Make me to hear joy and gladness; that the bones which thou hast broken may rejoice.


Hide thy face from my sins, and blot out all mine iniquities.


Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.


Cast me not away from thy presence; and take not thy holy spirit from me.


Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.


Then will I teach transgressors thy ways; and sinners shall be converted unto thee.


B. But That Was Way Back in Bible Days.  


So, you need something more contemporary?  How about this:


A requirement of one of my seminary courses was to read a book that was based on the true, twentieth-century story of a well-known man who was much sought after, and actively engaged in speaking and teaching all of the country.  When his obsession with pornography was revealed, he confessed his wrongdoing to his wife, discontinued all public appearances, and sought counseling.  It was recognized that this man had some healing to do, personally, spiritually and in his relationships.  Notice that relationships is plural.  He not only hurt himself and his wife, but his children, other family members, friends, colleagues, fellow members of the clergy, and let us not forget his God.  There is no “Band-aid” for this kind of rift.   The process for him to return to “public” life was a couple of years, not a couple of days or weeks.  


C. Was There a Wreck?


Well, according to CD, is friend HAD A WRECK.  A logical deduction is that his friend, EL, fell off the straight and narrow path and into a ditch.  Without belaboring the nasty details, CD sounded as if he was speaking of EL’s guilt –  culpability – liability – whatever the heck else one might label it.  Now, folks, we all have committed acts, or left something undone, that provoked most justly God’s wrath and indignation against us.  All of us have had wrecks.  Sometimes we caused them, and sometimes we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.  (See paragraph I.E,  “One More Thing” above.)  And sometimes both parties were at fault, but let us not digress to issues of contributory negligence.  For purposes of this now-too-long note (sorry, it’s the preacher in me), let us just say that EL caused the wreck.  


D. So, What Should Happen after EL‘s Wreck?


There must be an assessment of damages.  If EL had a wreck, something is misaligned, crumpled, dented, chipped, cracked, smashed or otherwise not as it should be.  He needs to be restored to serviceable condition.  He needs to be put back where he belongs.  And when one causes a wreck, one must pay the deductible.  That might set EL back a few months — or years.  Even though he settled with his complainants in mediation and paid some damages, those damages were paid to the complainant.  He still has to deal with his own damages – and pay the deductible.  Yes, as all other believers, EL has insurance, and the premiums may have been paid by Jesus the Christ, but just as EL would most likely counsel one of his congregation to take some time off – for healing and restoration – EL should do likewise – and more.  That is paying the deductible.   


E. If the Bus Is “Broke Down” from a Wreck, Hail a Taxi


CD chides folks who “left their preacher” because he had a wreck.  Has CD considered that folks would rather not trust a damaged vehicle?   Now, we all have our issues, but we still have to be able to function in our assignments.  How can a shepherd function in his assignment if he has been abusing the sheep?  


Recently, at the window of a drive-thru, I became frustrated when I made a simple inquiry:


Q. What kind of orange juice do you have?
A. Orange.
Q. Well, who makes it?
A. Is orange juice.
Q. Well, what brand is it?
A. Orange.


There was an obvious inability to articulate the answer to my query in English.  In my frustration I backed out of the drive-thru lane, and thinking I had cleared the curb, threw the car in “drive” and proceeded forward, only to go over the curb.  Well, I had a wreck.  I rigged the bumper with two very long cable ties and went home.  However, the very next morning, I was at Apollo Paint & Body (http://www.apollopaintandbody.com [these are simply the nicest auto service  folks I have ever encountered]) to have the damage appraised and repaired.  Sure, I could have left the bumper dangling from the cable ties, but the vehicle would not be restored to how it was before the wreck – nor would it have been in better condition.  In fact, over time, with driving the uneven streets of Houston, the damage to the bumper would have worsened.


So, I would ask CD:  If you were riding in EL’s vehicle and he had a wreck, sustaining significant damage to the body, frame, tires, wheels, windows and steering  wheel, would you jump back in the car and continue riding that road with EL, or would you hail a taxi?  Or catch a bus?  Or call someone else with a car?  Or hitchhike?


V. MEDIATION MAY BE A WIN-WIN, BUT IT CAN CAST A CLOUD OF SERIOUS DOUBT


The dreaded “L” word.  Everyone wants to sue somebody.  What makes them come forward?  Is it about justice?  Equity?  Greed?  Revenge?  Just asking.  Why now did these young men come forward?  Why did EL swear to fight the lawsuit and then settle at mediation?   Was he speaking from a perceived position of strength when he vowed to fight?  Why did he change his mind?


Even though my specialty is civil trial law, I believe that most lawsuits should never have been filed in the first place.  I am very fond of mediation, though it has devolved to a good-old-boy cottage industry and mediators like me rarely get appointed to mediate lawsuits, unless, of course, one of their good-old boys is a judge or lawyer.  They toss some wet-noodle (I really want to say “limp-#!#?” but that would not be appropriate) notion about non-lawyers not being well-versed in legal issues and theories.  Tell that to the lawyers for whom I write!   What hogwash!  Okay, I’ve said it; I dare you to prove me wrong.  [rant paused to continue this note].


The deal is this with mediation:  the Plaintiffs go in speculating about what they’re going to walk away with, as if they deserve something simply because they filed the suit, and the Defendants (at least the ones who know they are liable – they’ve caused a wreck) go in with the intent of giving up only what is absolutely necessary to make the Plaintiffs go away.  There is persuasion on each side, especially for volatile subject matter as the instant case.  There's not supposed to be persuasion per se, but just trust me on that.  And there is the airing of dirty (vile, filthy, whatever you want to say here) laundry, some of which is probably so befouled it should be taken out a burned – despite any imposed burn bans due to drought.


For the culpable defendant, it comes down to which will hurt worse:  settling now or the risk of losing at trial?  Is it less painful for CD to toss a perception of his friend’s liability to the world, while his friend pays off his accusers?  Does the world, then, assume that EL was in the wrong?  


VI. ABOVE THE LAW?


Sometimes folks think they can do whatever they want; they are beyond rules and above the law.  Or, worse, no one would dare accuse me!  Right.  Tell that to John Edwards.  Jim & Tammy Bakker.  Arnold Schwartzenegger.  Jimmy Swaggert.  Bill Clinton.  Tiger Woods and lots of other folks.  Tell that to the guy in paragraph I-E above.  Just because he got by in this life does not mean he will get away with it in the next.  Perhaps he will make it to one of the many rooms in the Savior’s mansion, but rather than an upgrade he will be relegated to the basement.  That simply is not our call.


But, come on, Pastors, yes, we fall down and we get up.  But while we’re down we get dirty.  Sometimes we tear (or lose) our pants, scrape our knees, break a leg, sprain an ankle, bump our heads, get a concussion.  Sometimes we need a little Neosporin and one of those cool Band-Aids that, if you’re a member of the paler nation, blends right into your skin and can barely be detected.  Sometimes we just need to run to one of those 24-hour emergency centers and get our ankle wrapped.  And sometimes we need major surgery, a couple of months at TIRR (a great place), and then outpatient rehabilitation before returning to work PART-TIME.


VII. THERE IS BUT ONE GOD


Having a wreck is something to which we are all susceptible.  What matters is what we do after the wreck.  Do we pretend that all is well?  As if we are not injured?  Or damaged?  After a wreck should one ascend the throne of his pulpit as if he is Almighty God, Father of our Lord, Jesus the Christ, Maker of all things and Judge of all men???   I think not.  There is but one God.  When one assumes the posture of unblemished perfection by not tending to one’s wounds and repairing the damage one sustains in a wreck, the message one sends is “There is absolutely nothing wrong with me.”   While folks should not try to assess the damage – that is between the wrecker and his Maker – folks should avoid the damaged vehicle until it is back where it belongs – or better.

Recovering From Worship???

Today is Good Friday.  For Believers we’re talking about something super special – the day we commemorate the passion and crucifixion of our Lord and Savior.  But, first, let’s back up to yesterday – Maundy Thursday – the day Believers commemorate the last supper.  


This writer cares not for the technobabble about how the dates for Holy Week and Resurrection Day change from one year to the next, just as this writer gives no thought to December 25 not being the Savior’s birthday.  None of these issues negate the beliefs of those of my ilk:  that He was born of an immaculate conception, He walked the earth, He suffered and died, and He was resurrected.  What is of significance that we remember.  In fact whenever we worship, we should be reminded.  So, how does that work?  Well, let’s talk about it.


Back to yesterday, Maundy Thursday.  It was a typical April day in Houston, Texas, in a word, hot.   It is the time of year when my beloved sun because one of my worst enemies, causing the manifestation of Sarcoidosis-related issues – like not being able to breathe, reddening and blistering facial skin (not easy for this Chocolate Bunny, but it actually turns red), and a total draining of every bit of energy in my body. Yet, it is Holy Week.  And despite the climate, Holy Week calls for daily treks to the Westmoreland Chapel on the campus South Main Baptist Church for worship at noon, and, if one is so inclined thereafter, a nice lunch served in the shade of our Chafin Educational Building (we have an absolutely awesome kitchen staff – okay – that’s a plug, but true).


The noon worship on Maundy Thursday focused on the text found in verses 53 through 65 of the 14th chapter of Mark, and Pastor Steve’s question:  Who killed Jesus?   (If one recalls Mel Gibson’s movie The Passion, one might also recall the clamor at that time about just that question: Who killed Jesus?   One might also recall the close-up of various hands nailing Jesus to the cross, among them being the hands of Mr. Gibson.)  And toward the end of the message, Pastor Steve began answering the question by calling the roll: Jews killed Jesus – not all Jews but Caiaphas and the chief priests, the teachers of the law, the Sanhedrin that were assembled that night – a kangaroo court in Caiaphas’s home; and the Romans – not all Romans but those who handed Him over to Pontius Pilot; and, theologically, God the Father, who sent His Son into the world for just this purpose; and Jesus, who allowed Himself to be killed.  And, of course, there are more – many, many more: our sins killed Jesus.  I killed Jesus.  You killed Jesus.  And so it goes, folks: we all had a hand in nailing Him to the tree.  Wow.  Folks who only want “feel-good” church would have left unfulfilled and very much disappointed rather than convicted – and convinced that the only way we will stop killing Jesus is to become more like Him.


The day of worship continued Maundy Thursday evening, with the most somber worship time of any at South Main – the Service of Shadows – the time when we reflect on the betrayal, arrest, desertion, trial, scourging, crucifixion and death of the Only Faultless One to ever walk the earth.  Amidst voices pouring out words in haunting melodies and lush harmonies, words that salve and soothe one’s soul, our Ragan C. read from The Word, the scriptures that so vividly paint the picture that tells the story of how we all participated in nailing Him to the tree.  By the end of worship, there is silence and darkness – how the world was left then after they/we had killed Him – and words fittingly descriptive, even today, of lives that are without His light.  Wow.


And Holy Week continued today.  Yet, another trek to the Westmoreland Chapel for noon worship, a Silent Service – an intentional, deliberate means of focusing the worshiper, once more, on the sacrifice of our Savior.  


This service is comprised of a series of scriptures, each followed by a song played by our resident prodigy, organist Daryl Robinson.  Daryl is a favorite of this writer.  His musicianship is beyond comparison, going far beyond the mastery of his performance abilities, but technical knowledge as well.  What had not been realized until today, was Daryl’s tremendous gift of marrying scripture to music.   Thoughtfully choosing* familiar texts and melodies, as well as works that may not be known to many of us at all, Mr. Robinson took worshipers on a journey, from Christ’s condemnation, to the Via Dolorosa, to Golgotha, to the tomb.   Complementing the words of the chosen music, were the music arrangements themselves, employing harmonies, progressions and nuances that added more texture and brilliance to the pictures the Scriptures and lyrics painted.


Feel the moment of condemnation, knowing that what lay ahead was even worse than what had already transpired: 

Christ, who saves us by His cross,

And no sin committed

(J.S. Bach).   

Feel the weight of the cross beneath a battered and emaciated body.  

Must Jesus bear the cross alone

and all the world go free?  

(George N. Allen/Thomas Shepherd).  

See Simon of Cyrene carry the cross for Him.  

Shun not suffering, shame, or loss; 

learn of Christ to bear the cross.  

(Richard Redhead/James Montgomery). 

Feel the agony of the women who wailed for Jesus.  
There is a balm in Gilead 
to heal the sin sick soul 
(Negro Spiritual).  


Feel the nakedness of His body as the soldiers divided His clothing:   

A purple robe, a crown of thorn, 

a reed in His right hand, 

Before the soldiers’ spite and scorn 

I see my Savior stand.  

(David Wilson/Timothy Dudley-Smith).  

See the nails being driven into His hands and feet, but if like this writer, just try to avoid imagining the added pain they caused:  

God, give us each our own death, 

the dying that proeeds from each of our lives.  

(Camil van Huise/Rilke) 

Feel the darkness creeping into the world as He breathed His last breath:

Grim death, with cruel rigor, 

hath robbed Thee of Thy life; 

Thus Thou hast lost Thy vigor, 

Thy strength in this sad strife 

(Brahms/Bernard of Clairvaux).  

See them take His body from the cross:

When I survey the wondrous cross

on which the Prince of glory died.  

(Edward Miller/Isaac Watts).  

See Joseph wrap Him in a linen cloth and lay Him in a tomb hewn out of rock:

Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?  

Oh!  Sometimes it causes me to tremble.  

(Negro Spiritual).

As worshipers left the chapel in silence, words and music remained alive.  Just off the sidewalk, leaning against the accessible parking pillar under a tree (that must be older than any building on the campus), providing protective shade while God wrapped his arms around me in a light breeze that tempered the afternoon heat preventing pulmonary discomfort, the words and the music washed over me again, leaving images of the 24-hour period that began at noon on Maundy Thursday, and a thought: how awesome it is to live on this side of the resurrection, to be able to look back and see that whole picture.  Kevin Sinclair, our minister to youth, spoke as he passed by, asking if he could be of assistance.  Oh, I’m just recovering from worship.  Sometimes it takes me a while.  He gave me an understanding nod, and left me to continue me reverie.


Finally collecting myself, I drove away with another thought – a question: how does one recover from worship?   In retrospect, that just seems odd.  To recover – meaning to bring back or get back to normal – totally negates the purpose of worship.   Quite often, a prayer in worship at South Main includes the plea that we be transformed so that we will be less of what we used to be and more of what we ought to be through Christ Jesus.  And so, folks, recovering from worship is just not the desired thing to do.  To leave worship the same as one came is to spend an hour (or two, or however many) going through some ritual, reading words, singing songs, joining in prayers, and listening to sermons, that are no more than water off a duck’s back.  So why bother?


And so, rather than recover from worship, perhaps I should have told Kevin, I’m still renewing through worship:


Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God's will is – his good, pleasing and perfect will. (Romans 12:2, NIV).  Perhaps with a little more renewing and transforming, we would kill Jesus less often.


Out of the most agonizing time of the first century A.D. was born the grace we experience today. Because of that, even in silent worship, there are conviction and comfort; veil-lifting and vindication; peace and promise; enlightenment and edification, and hopefully, a desire for renewal and transformation.




_______________________
*All right, thoughtfully choosing is conjecture on my part; still, this writer is sure it took more than a few minutes while nursing his favorite Starbuck’s beverage, for Mr. Robinson to well devise a worship service that so wonderfully reflects the gravity and majesty of the moment.

What Do You Do When You Don't Get Your Way?

Yesterday was Wednesday -- "hump" day -- the middle of the week. The day following our President's speech directed to children -- encouraging them to stay and do well in school -- a speech that too many folks did not want him to make. As one man put it: I don't want my child to be a little community organizer. This week I am listening to Mr. Obama's first book as I tool around the city in my Jeep. I spend a lot of time in my Jeep it seems. When I first heard the term community organizer I had an inkling, but now have learned a little more. In essence, what Mr. Obama did as a community organizer, was bring people together to work on problems to benefit their individual and common good -- the kind of stuff that many take for granted. (stuff we take for granted will be addressed at another time.) It turns out that when one reaps an individual benefit, it does affect the common good. But, again, I'll save that for another time. Back to the issue at hand -- Wednesday -- hump day.

Wednesday is a really special day. No matter how grueling it is, I try really hard to end it by four o'clock. If it all possible I like to spend 30 minutes or so with the beautiful rosewood Steinway that sits in the sanctuary of That Place where my family of God assembles for a myriad of reasons and activities (see previous blog). I missed that time yesterday, but arrived in time for dinner --- succulent, juicy, well-seasoned chicken breast tenders, a baked potato (custom loaded by yours truly), fresh leafy salad (they even remember I'm allergic to tomatoes), a roll that rivals any (even those from my mom's kitchen [don't tell her I said that -- even at 90 her baked goods are as scrumptious as they were 50 years ago]), and finished with a perfect peanut butter cookie (baked in our Place's kitchen, of course). Hmm. Anyway, trust me, I don't just go for the food. More importantly, I go for the fellowship and all that word encompasses.

There is something special about communing with a group of folks who share a common belief. It is the tie that binds our hearts in (at least in this case) Christian love. The fellowship part includes my pastor visiting our tables, taking a few moments for us to catch up with each other. Then we review our newsletter and get updates on what's happening with our friends and family. Then we have prayer. And then we begin Bible study, which brings us to the question pastor Steve asked yesterday evening: What do you do when you don't get your way?

I have yet to shake that question from the forefront of my thoughts. After Bible study I went to choir rehearsal -- as usual a mixed bag of musical genres. And, confronted with two pieces I really don't feel yet -- one in Spanish and another in a language I dare not even guess (something from Africa [no offense to my African brothers and sisters]), that question loomed in my mind: What do you do when you don't get your way? After rehearsal, getting into my second home (the Jeep [perhaps I should give it a name -- something gender nonspecific]), I received a phone call, and after my usual greeting -- this is Andrea -- what I heard was not hey, how're ya' doin' -- or the more gutteral vernacular -- whassup? -- but instead: did you hear that #!!*@??? (Remember Watergate? -- expletive deleted.) Anyway, no, I did not hear Joe Wilson. By now, most folks know who he is, so I'll just move right along. But after hearing the Joe Wilson excercise in uncivilized behavior (at least here in the United States -- not so in England or some Asian countries), there was that question again: What do you do when you don't get your way?

So, what about that question? Here are some broad strokes on the complicated canvass we call life (trite, huh?).

1. You remember your commitment. If you made it, you should honor it.

Is your commitment to your political party, or the people you represent, or to yourself? Is the oath you took a meaningless jumble of words -- you know, allegiance to the Constitution of the United States, swearing to well and faithfully discharge duties, blah, blah blah? These are questions -- particularly to legislators who enjoy great medical insurance and retirement benefits that are the envy of the folks they represent -- that merit answers. And don't forget these little gems: How many lobbyists do you actually know? Commune with? accept gifts from?

Suggestion to all: ask your legislator (how about all of them?) where his* loyalty lies.

2. You remember who's in charge. If you're not the leader, then you're a follower. If you dont' want to follow, get the heck out of the way.

Is your commitment to be the best choir member you can be, by following the instructions of the director, knowing that despite the numbers of bodies, there is only one soprano, one alto, one tenor, one bass (meaning if you screw it up there goes the whole section -- whether 2 or 12 or 20)? Is your commitment to serve at your whim, or to serve your God (mine gets the capital "G" -- how about yours) and minister to His people through music?

Note to self: review the Spanish and African language songs at home so you won't feel like a large-lipped bungling idiot trying to pronounce "mbwe" while in choir rehearsal.

3. You remember that He is the way -- so make your way His way. (Warning: you may not get with this blurb. That's okay for now; I pray that one day you will).

I have learned that most times our way is not the right way. We devise and scheme, plot and plan to shape, form and fashion what is right according to our own whims. Actually, we give little thought to the "rightness" of it all. Sure, we sometimes whitewash it in some lie on the Lord or Holy Spirt. You know of what I speak: I prayed and I prayed and the Lord showed me . . . The Lord led me to . . . The Spirit spoke to me and said . . . . Am I sayingHe doesn't speak to us? Absolutely not! He's always speaking to us; the problem is we are rarely listening. Why? Because usually we are hell bent on having our way. And most likely, that is where our way will take us: straight to hell. (Or as one man told me when I, substituting for his church's minister of music, asked the choir to reign in their conduct: Well, you know, we have our traditions, to which I replied: Yeah, and your traditions might take you straight to hell. Anyway, moving right along. . . .

The truth be told (another trite little saying), if we listened more often, we would have our way a lot less. But, we forge ahead with whatever, and when we get ourselves in another mess, He is still there. As the song says: Everytime I come back to Him, He is waiting with open arms, and I see once again He's been faithful to me. (That's really a nice song. Thank you, Carol Cymbala of Brooklyn Tabernacle.)

Sometimes not having our way is painful. This year has been chocked full of the most gut-wrenching pain I have ever experienced. I lost someone very dear to me in a most unsettling way -- not to a natural death, which is a natural progression of life -- but to divorce, which is the crudest tearing away (I rate it right up there with murder). If I had gotten my way, rather than having grieved over the loss of possibilities and potential, we would now be nurturing the growth and development of a viable means of help others. My thought about this last night: sometimes when we don't get our way it is because we have no control. And that thought begs the question: what do we do when we don't have control? Well, I'm glad you asked.

Even when I don't have control, The Way -- the Maker and Creator of us all -- is in control. He did not call Himself a Christian; He called Himself The Way. So whether it is a control issue or a getting my way issue (is there any difference? I think not), I choose to focus on Him. Only He has the ability to make sense out of confusion, turn darkness to light, open blind eyes and deaf ears that truth may be seen and heard, to melt hearts of stone. I pray for the day that my steps -- not some, but all -- are ordered in The Way -- the Word, the Truth, the Light. The Way is all that and much more.

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*Please be reminded I care nothing for being politically correct. Use whatever gender pronoun you deem appropriate.